You Need Me More Than I Need You
by When The Sun Goes Down
Summary: Tenth Doctor x Martha Jones. Mentions of 10th Doctor x Rose Tyler. Takes place...maybe midway series 3, whenever makes sense in your mind. Lemon. "A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection." R & R plez!XD


**You Need Me More Than I Need You**

By: When The Sun Goes Down

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, Fight Club, or the rights to that song.

Warnings: swearing, sexual content, emotional abuse and OOC. SO if one or more of the things I just listed bothers you, don't read.

Summary: Tenth Doctor x Martha Jones. Mentions of Ten x Rose Tyler. Takes place...maybe midway series 3...whenever makes sense in your mind. "A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection."

A/N: Hey, it's me again. Anyways, let me start off by saying that I'm not much of a Doctor Who fan; by which I simply mean that I certainly wouldn't win any type of trivia quiz about the show. I really do like it. Though I actually got into Torchwood first. Weird right? I tend to do things backwards like that. Moving on, they started playing the third series a little while ago on the telly and I've been reading some 10th Doctor x Martha lately so I wanted to write one myself. Slightly inspired by the fic Bad Pain by The Laughing Duchess which I read while listening to Digital Bath by Deftones. Mix that with my unhealthy sleep cycle and the result is this fic. The title is a Placebo song from the Meds bonus track album that works with what I want this to be about and the quote is from Fight Club (the book, not the movie. Yes, there's a book.) R &R plez! XD

It wasn't perfect and she wasn't Rose. But it was something.

And right now something was better than another night spent alone in his bedroom with only the memories to keep him company. And keep him awake. With the dreams his subconscious so generously provided whenever he fell asleep. Dreams that have left him with nothing but stained pillows and matching sheets. And an all too familiar sense of regret and guilt, that he knew would overwhelm him if he let it.

It wasn't perfect but it was better than nothing. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection. And that moment had passed by him far too quickly for him to grab on to it, before it was too late. Too fast for him to realize what he could have had with her. Too fast for him to take another chance on love. So fast that it made it even harder let go of something he'd never really had.

And it didn't have to be Martha. He could have gone to any other galaxy, any other place, any other _time _and picked up any girl he wanted, fucked her wherever he wanted (though not the TARDIS; never the TARDIS with _**those**_ types of girls) and left her; feeling nothing but the joy of release. But that was hollow. It wasn't the same with them. To all those random girls he was John Smith, he was nobody; he was just another one night stand. He wasn't their saviour, their doctor, their **God**. He could only be all those things to one type of girl: a companion. He had wanted to be more with Rose, but that was impossible now.

So then there was Martha. Out of all those other girls he had decided to choose her. Because she was available, convenient, close by. Because she liked him more than he liked her and he knew that she would let him do whatever he wanted. But none of those reasons was the main reason. He knew that deep down the main reason was that he enjoyed it. He enjoyed taking advantage of Martha's feelings for him to satisfy his sexual needs.

So there he was, fucking Martha Jones into his mattress with all the strength he could muster and loving every minute of it. Loving the way her face contorted in both pleasure and pain with each move he made. Loving how her body writhed beneath his and attempted to follow his impossible rhythm. Loving the way her voice sounded every time she said his name. Over and over and over again. "Doctor...Doctor...DOCTOR!" Whether it was a moan or a scream it only made him want to devour her even more.

Her moans began to get louder and louder as he continued to thrust harshly into her, until finally he felt her clamp down around him and scream as she came. The sound of her scream pushed him over the edge and he pounded roughly into her once more while digging his fingers into her hips as he exploded within her.

And once it was over he didn't touch her, didn't hold her, and most certainly didn't kiss her. Instead of doing all those things that he knew he was supposed to do he merely got off of the bed, picked up his clothes, and left. As he shut the door to her room he could just barely hear the faint sounds of Martha crying quietly to herself. She always did that after they had sex. It should have bothered him, but it didn't. And he never comforted her later because Martha Jones had to learn that there would come a time when he wouldn't need her anymore and would leave her, just like he had left all the others behind.


End file.
